


Alone

by InnocentDemons



Category: Original Work
Genre: Existential Crisis, Fiction, How Do I Tag, My First AO3 Post, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Other tags may be added, Psychological Horror, Tags Are Hard, i guess??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:54:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25828528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnocentDemons/pseuds/InnocentDemons
Summary: Lifeless brown eyes stared back at him, his face wearing the same old dull expression he’s worn for so long. For a few minutes, he just stared at his reflection. He almost couldn’t recognize himself.  The face he expected to see was a young man with a constant smirk on his face and a challenging glint to his eye. A glimmer of mirth and recklessness that said “Nothing’s impossible. Just you watch me” he dragged a hand down his face and sighed.That was five years ago. It feels almost like a lifetime since he had that grin on his face. He felt a sudden pang of loss. Charlie closed his eyes for a second, leaning on the sink and taking a deep breath. He opened his eyes and looked back at his reflection. The same dull eyes stared back.It felt like he was looking at his own corpse.Charlie's breath hitched, he shut his eyes but it was like he could still see his reflection behind his eyelids.





	Alone

Charlie woke up to the searing pain of blinding light from the open window shining in his eyes. He hissed at the pain and slung his arm across his face to shield his already damaged eyes. For a few heartbeats, he laid there, still half asleep. Half-forgotten dreams fade in and out of his consciousness, the stories they told bizzare and shocking. Yet still, they slipped his mind easily like sand between fingers. He squinted at the widow, reminding himself to go buy some curtains to block out the shine of city lights. But in the back of his mind he knows he won’t anyway. He never does, no matter how many times he keeps reminding himself. _It’s not necessary._ Something in his mind hisses. _It takes too much time. Too much effort. Besides, buying curtains means going out and talking to someone._ He felt a shudder run down his spine. He’d much rather not

Charlie rolled onto his side, facing opposite the window and pulled his old beaten pillow over his head to cover his face. He closes his eyes and for a while, he lays there. Content to lie on his ragged mattress, wrapped in the only blanket he owns. He began to consider staying there for the entire day and ignore the work pile on his desk as well as the obnoxious screaming neighbors and the loud cars that roar by every single day. He could just… sleep. Catch up on months’ worth of lost sleep. Charlie’s eyelids start feeling heavier the longer he thought about it. The idea of sleeping in was becoming more and more comforting by the second. He could just curl up there and ignore everything.

But before he could add another thought, his stomach growled in protest.

Charlie sighed. Of course. After all, he didn’t eat dinner the day before. He at least needed to compensate for the lack of food. He thought back and tried to remember the last meal he had. Come to think of it, did he even eat the day before _at all_? He opened his eyes and rolled onto his back, his pillow flumped to the side and forgotten. He raised his hands above his face and examined them, trying to see if they’ve changed at all in the span of 24 hours. He clenched and unclenched them repeatedly, turning his hand front and back. Seeing his hands against the light made him realize how small his wrists were now. He encircled his left wrist with his thumb and middle finger. He frowned at his hands. His wrist was now small enough that the tip of his thumb could touch the first knuckle of his middle finger. He clicked his tongue. Yeah, he really should eat breakfast. That thought makes him err for a second. Would it be breakfast or dinner? It would technically be dinner right? Charlie picks his phone and glasses up from the floor. He puts on his glasses and checks the time

_10:36 PM_

Yeah, it would technically be dinner. But according to his body clock, it’s time for breakfast. At this point, Waking up at nights is normal for Charlie. His work requires him to be nocturnal. And to be honest, that’s how he prefers it. Less people out at night, less human interaction, less stress for him to deal with. For the past five years now 9:30 PM has been his morning and 10:00PM had become his midnight. Charlie doesn’t do much but sit in front of the computer, typing away and finalizing artwork until he sees the sun rising. After so long in this bizarre schedule and tiny bare apartment with nothing but work keeping him company, he’s... gotten used to being alone.

But it’s not like Charlie had much company to begin with. He stopped talking to his adoptive parents and siblings after he dropped out of college to pursue this lifein the city. All his friends in high school and college never really stuck around. And he had never had a girlfriend before in his life. Sort of sad, but true. And making friends in the city when you don't have any prior connections wasn't exactly easy. He didn’t really care though. He thinks that people just get in the way of his work. Less time on them, more time on work, the better pieces he can make. It’s always been better that way in his experience. Charlie’s stomach grumbled again, this time leaving a hollow twang of pain behind which makes him wince.

Charlie flung off the ratty old blanket and stands up immediately. His body, in retaliation, told him that the room has started swaying under his feet and his vision is filled with static. He stumbled over his feet and managed to find a wall to lean on. Pressing his back against the wall, he allowed himself to slide down to the floor, suddenly feeling like he’d been doused by cold water while simultaneously being roasted under the sun. He huffed, breath heavy and lungs tight and screwed his eyes shut, counting in between deep breaths. His heartbeat was loud in his ears as he tried to get his body back to normal.

Eventually, the room stopped spinning and Charlie got up again. Slowly this time. He jokingly reminds himself to work _Getting up too fast_ into his work schedule. He padded slowly towards the kitchenette, yawning and rubbing the remnants of sleep from his eyes. The counter was piled high with empty containers of instant noodles, box meals and takeout bags high enough to touch the overhead cabinet. The sink held all of the tableware that he owned. Which wasn’t much to speak of.

Charlie ignored the mess and instead headed for the fridge; only to find it empty, save for a few leftover sauce packets and a bottle of mustard. He stared at the inside of the empty fridge for a minute then slammed the door and reached for the overhead cabinets. Empty. He sighed then ran a hand through his hair. He walks around the counter that acted as a divider between the kitchenette and his work area.

Much like the kitchen counter, his entire workspace was also covered in empty food containers except one corner of the table next to his laptop and drawing tablet. Where instead of Styrofoam cups and plastic utensils were two big piles of papers stacked neatly, one taller than the other. Charlie reached underneath the desk where he dumped his bag yesterday, frustrated after a disastrous meeting with a client in a high end restaurant left him soaked in wine. He kicked aside the box marked “Drafts” and plopped the old worn knapsack on his chair. It didn’t take him long to dig out his wallet. He hoped that he had enough cash for delivery.

Surely enough, Charlie did have enough for delivery. That is, if he didn’t want to eat for the rest of the day. A brief check in his work journal revealed that his next paycheck won’t arrive until tomorrow.

He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed, clicking his tongue in irritation. He had nothing left to eat in the house and delivery wasn’t an option. He glared at his wallet, almost accusingly. As if it was the wallet’s fault that it was empty. He hung his head and let out a deep winded sigh. He really didn’t want to go out again after what happened yesterday, but he didn’t really have much of a choice. So, he dropped his wallet back into the knapsack and headed to the bathroom to take a shower.

Calling it a bathroom would be giving the space too much credit. A bathroom usually meant somewhere a person can comfortably get ready for the day. What Charlie had was more like a sink, a toilet and a shower head had been fused together and crammed into a bite sized closet. Charlie turns on the light and squints when the yellowish light stings his eyes. He lifted his arm to shield his eyes again until they readjust to the harsh light. Once they did, he blinked at his reflection in the mirror above the sink.

Lifeless brown eyes stared back at him, his face wearing the same old dull expression he’s worn for so long. For a few minutes, he just stared at his reflection. He almost couldn’t recognize himself. The face he expected to see was a young man with a constant smirk on his face and a challenging glint to his eye. A glimmer of mirth and recklessness that said “ _Nothing’s impossible. Just you watch me_ ” he dragged a hand down his face and sighed.

That was five years ago. It feels almost like a lifetime since he had that grin on his face. He felt a sudden pang of loss. Charlie closed his eyes for a second, leaning on the sink and taking a deep breath. He opened his eyes and looked back at his reflection. The same dull eyes stared back.

It felt like he was looking at his own corpse.

Charlie's breath hitched, he shut his eyes but it was like he could still see his reflection behind his eyelids. 

After a brief shower, he got dressed and gave himself a once over in the mirror, making sure not to look anywhere past his shoulders. He looked okay, he thought to himself. His old blue hoodie hung off his body. Making him look even skinnier than he already was. There were dark circles under his eyes, made prominent by his thick rimmed glasses. His jeans, thankfully, still fit him but had a few stains here or there from not being washed for a few weeks. But nothing too noticeable. It was good enough. He grabbed his keys, earphones, wallet and phone and stuffed them into his pockets then headed out the door.

The hall was empty when Charlie stepped out of his apartment. Not really surprising when it was still dark out. But he half expected some people in the hallway. Usually there were some stragglers still out around the time Charlie was up and about. Some people coming back home after an exhausting trip, teenagers sneaking home after curfew, the few odd drunk people stumbling home after a night of drinking. But there was nobody.

The hall was... completely silent. Charlie walked down the hall and eyed each door he passed, straining to hear anything inside so he’d know if someone would suddenly be joining him out the hall. Most apartments were quiet while some apartments had their TVs on.

At first, Charlie didn’t really care what the sounds from each apartment’s TV. But the more times he heard the same noise, the more and more he was convinced that they were all on static. That made an unpleasant feeling churn in his gut. He was almost tempted to knock on a door just to hear someone’s voice. But he didn’t.

Once he reached the elevator, he punched the button to call the elevator up and waited for it. He looked through his phone, checking for client meet ups, deadlines, and complaints or suggestions current clients have with their commissions.

_12:oo AM_

A few moments passed with Charlie’s eyes glued to his phone when the elevator’s bell chimed. Eyes still glued to the screen, he stepped aside to let any passenger pass. But there was no one. This made Charlie look up to see that both the elevator and the hall was completely void of people. He turned around and looked at the doors, waiting for someone to come out. Waiting for the sound of footsteps or voices. But all he could hear was the faint buzzing of static behind closed doors. That unpleasant feeling in his gut came back a bit stronger. But he pushed the feeling down, stuffed his phone in his pocket and stepped into the elevator.

The flickering of the fluorescent lights in the elevator and the quiet groans of protest the old worn out cables made Charlie feel more uneasy. Something was off today. There was something wrong. The elevator groaned every once in a while which unsettled him. Every groan setting off a bout of panic that centered on elevator failures leading to people’s death. He spent the entire ride holding on to the hand rail with a death grip, quietly praying that nothing would go wrong.

Once the doors opened, Charlie shot out of the elevator. All panicked thoughts and shaky hands as he tripped in his haste and fell onto the old dusty carpet of the lobby. He laid there on his side, heart pounding out of his chest as he stared at the old elevator that remained open. It's lights no longer flickering, almost mokingly. As if it wasn't about to collapse a few minutes ago when he had been it's sole occupant. His head spun and he couldn’t stop shaking. He told himself to take deep breaths but it felt like he was in a vacuum and every breath he took was sucked right back out of his lungs.

It took a while before Charlie could breathe normally again. But it took a longer time to convince himself to calm down and get up.

Charlie shakily got back on his feet, stumbling a little and wringed his hands nervously. He looked around the lobby to see if anyone witnessed any of that. A part of him, albeit a tiny part, hoped that someone did. Just to know that there was someone else here with him. But the lobby was completely empty. This made his already frayed nerves feel worse. He moved to leave the building and noticed something through the glass that made his gut churn.

He pushed through the glass doors and stepped out onto the sidewalk, expecting to hear the roar of cars in various parts of the city, the sounds bouncing off the tall buildings and the skyscrapers. He was expecting to see tourists walking around and taking pictures of the lights, the buildings, and everything in between. He was expecting to see the sidewalks dotted with people.

But the streets were empty

Charlie swiveled around, looking for any sign of people. But everywhere he looked he found more glaring evidence that there was no one there. Empty cars lined up at street lights that long since had turned green. As if the people driving was heading somewhere but just suddenly decided to leave all their cars behind. The food stalls that usually had people huddled around them sat on the side walk, untended to. Even the baby strollers here and there on the street and the concrete were abandoned. Some keeled over, contents spilled. It was like there were bubbles in Charlie’s ears. Like there were sounds and music that he was supposed to be hearing, but it just wasn’t there. He strained his ears. Hoping to hear anyone or anything. He needed to know that there was someone else out there with him.

He pulled out his phone to call someone, anyone. But who would he call? He didn’t really know anyone else in the city except for the delivery people who knew him by name. Even then, he didn’t know any of their personal numbers. Charlie stood there for a while, at a loss for whom to call. Eventually, he decided that calling delivery numbers would be safe. Maybe walking around might help. Maybe he totally isn’t alone. Charlie felt the unpleasant feeling from earlier came back full force, making Charlie feel like he might throw up. He called everyone on his contact list. Restaurants, clients, even his family that he hadn’t spoken to in years. He punched in the numbers and waited for someone to pick up the phone.

All that he got every time in reply was the hollow sound of the busy tone. the further along he got through his contact list, the harder it was to breathe. In between calls, he shouted, yelled, calling out for anyone who could hear him. But as he passed stores, cafes and restaurants he found no other living soul. He was shaking now. And his lungs felt a tight. His heart throbbed in his chest as he searched for online chat groups. Blogs. Conversation threads. _Anything!_ He even tried emailing his family. All in vain attempt to talk to someone else.

There was nothing but silence.

Charlie started to panic. He couldn’t be alone. He started hyperventilating again. He _couldn’t!_ _He-_

He called screamed to the vast emptiness of the once bursting city. And of course, nobody answered. The sound of his own voice echoed back to him almost like the city itself was mocking him. Each step he took was faster than his last until he was running through the streets and weaving through abandoned cars. He desperately looked through store windows, looking for another soul. Only this morning he was ready to forget about the fact that other human beings existed. But now, all he wanted to know was that he wasn’t alone.

The blood thundered in his ears as he turned around, straining to hear someone, anyone, anything. But he heard none. No conversation or hushed whispers in the darkness of the alleys. No sound of shoes hitting the pavement. No obnoxious roars of cars speeding by. Nothing breaking the silence but the faint howling of the wind and echoes of his desperate voice.

All of his panicked thoughts were too much to bear. The dark morning sky made him feel claustrophobic with these skyscrapers all around him. It made him feel tiny, insignificant, _alone_. It was all too much at once. He was alone. The very thought terrified him. He felt like someone doused him in cold water. He was actually _alone_. Charlie sobbed and begged for someone to talk to him, his voice cracked. His begging echoing against the concrete walls of each building.

He stops running, breathing ragged, tears burning in the back of his eyes. He stumbles to a stop against a wall, slowly slipping down onto his knees. For a few minutes he sits there, trying to breathe deeply and calm himself down. But the swirling, panicked thoughts inside his head was like a whirlpool sucking him deeper and deeper into a paralyzing fear.

All he could think of was his family. Mom, dad, Delilah and Jesse. How he left all of that behind, how he missed them all so much. Charlie’s thoughts were brought back to his work. It was what made him cut himself out of the family picture and it was the only thing stopping him from going back home to his family. he thought back to how none of his clients answered when he called. Seeing the state that his city was in, and the fact that he could reach none of them it would mean that his work is now irrelevant. A small part of him mourned the time and effort he put into his pieces, as well as the patience he'd spent dealing with finicky clients. But a bigger part of him realized that his work's irrelevance meant that he could go back home.

Charlie felt a small spark of hope ignite in his chest that he had forgotten he could ever have. The corner of his lips tugged upwards in a faint, relieved smile. But his hope was immediately put out at a thought. If his city was abandoned and he was the only one left, wouldn’t that mean that there's a chance that even if Charlie did drive back home, there would be no one there? He shut his eyes tight and took deep breaths. 

Going back home and finding out would be better than staying here and never knowing. He decided minutes later. He pulled out his phone and checks the time.

_6:24 AM_

So he headed back to his apartment to pack. With every empty car and window he passed, he became more and more determined to get home. When he arrived at his apartment’s lobby, he takes the stairs. Not wanting to step another foot in that damn deathtrap. When Charlie reached his floor, he looked around the hall. Sure enough, it was still empty. He ignored the other apartments as he practically sprinted towards his own, ignored the unsettling sound of static behind closed doors.

Charlie slipped into his apartment, slamming the door shut. He sets to work immediately. Packing his clothes and whatever else he ould fit in his suitcase and backpack. He didn't bother including his laptop and drawing tablet. No use for that anymore. As an afterthought, he cleaned up the mountains of instant food containers and dumps the plastic bags full of trash outside his apartment. He checks the time again

_10:00 AM_

Hunger makes itself known to him again with an indignant growl. It was the reason he'd left his apartment in the first place after all. But Charlie didn't think he could go out again so soon. He drinks some water, to at least provide the feeling that he was full. His eyes begin to feel heavy. He'd been awake for almost twelve hours now and it was starting to take a toll. He tries to take a nap. Reserve some energy before he hits the road but he couldn’t. It was too quiet. It makes him feel restless and anxious. Charlie's heart pounds when he thinks about what happened today and what all of this would mean for the following days. He got up and paced for some time, trying to slow his shaky breathing then sat back down. He puts his head in his hands and wondered if this was just some kind of twisted dream. Dear God, he really really hoped it was. but something inside him told him that it wasn't. and that what he'd witnessed today was very much real. Charlie lifts his head from his hands and looks through the window. Just hoping to see even just a glance of a person across the building or on the street.

But the street remained empty

With a sigh through his nose, he looked down at his trembling clasped fingers. Even though he spent so much of his life alone in this tiny apartment, the thought of him being the last man in the world… it sent chills down his spine and made his stomach lurch. Everything about this made him want to curl up in a ball and disappear like everyone else has. It was so quiet that Charlie could hear his heartbeat in his ears.

Then there were slow, deliberate knocks on the door.

**Author's Note:**

> Credits to Toh-Eng for the original! What I did here is basically just putting some more meat onto the story
> 
> I'll be honest with you, this is the second time I've ever posted any of my writing online ever. The first time being when I was twelve and I ended up deleting the whole thing less than a week later cause I was so embarrased lmao. I never really intended to post this online but my friends insisted that it was too good to leave in my writing folder forever so here it is?
> 
> What do you think? Is it good enough for me to post a part two? or should I just leave this as a one shot? Tell me what you think in the comments and if you catch any mistakes please let me know.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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